Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Leon. For did I thinke thou wouldst not quickly die,
Leon. Thought I thy spirits were stronger then thy shames,
Leon. My selfe would on the reward of reproaches
Leon. Strike at thy life. Grieu'd I, I had but one?
Leon. Chid I, for that at frugal Natures frame?
Leon. O one too much by thee: why had I one?
Leon. Why euer was't thou louelie in my eies?
Leon. Why had I not with charitable hand
Leon. Tooke vp a beggars issue at my gates,
Leon. Who smeered thus, and mir'd with infamie,
Leon. I might haue said, no part of it is mine:
Leon. This shame deriues it selfe from vnknowne loines,
Leon. But mine, and mine I lou'd, and mine I prais'd,
Leon. And mine that I was proud on mine so much,
Leon. That I my selfe, was to my selfe not mine:
Leon. Valewing of her, why she, O she is falne
Leon. Into a pit of Inke, that the wide sea
Leon. Hath drops too few to wash her cleane againe,
Leon. And salt too little, which may season giue
Leon. To her foule tainted flesh.